


eines Tages, ein Königreich (One day, a kingdom)

by cuneifire (orphan_account)



Series: Mirador [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 13th Century CE, Gen, Precognition, Religion, Teutonic Knights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 21:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18599857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/cuneifire
Summary: Prussia starts, wakes up, fights. And he’s destined for greatness.(Or: In which Prussia learns his whole history in less than half a minute, and subsequently forgets all the important parts.)





	eines Tages, ein Königreich (One day, a kingdom)

**Author's Note:**

> Ah before anyone skewers me for the excessive shitty German... First to anyone who actually speaks German; I am so, so, sorry. Please forgive me. And to anyone who knows their salt about Middle High German; I am even sorrier. For the record; I couldn't find much on the differences between High Middle German (dialect Prussia is supposed to be hearing) vs. Modern day German, so I just took some notes on pronunciation and switched them around. And the excessive German is intended. I'm aware that in most of my fics I overuse foreign languages- which I plan to fix soon- but in this one I swear there was a reason other than my nerdery. Genuinely.
> 
> Hope it's good!!

1233

Kwidzyn, Pomesania.

.

Prussia wakes up, very, very slowly.

The whole world comes to him in pieces, in fragments; a flash of a sword in the corner of his eyes, a scream in a language he doesn’t know, blood spilling everywhere, on the grass that his fingers curl into.

It takes him a long time, but eventually he fully comes to life, wakes up and sees the world around him, chubby little fingers grasping at a nearby twig fallen from the tree nearby he seems to have spent most of his time underneath.

He remembers that not because it’s really all that important, but because of what happened after that.

He’d looked up, hearing a scream ring in his ear.

A man stood, screaming as a sword pierced his stomach, falling over death on the metal blade.

Nearby, a woman screamed. “ _Kasse pagan_!” She had yelled, in that language Prussia had heard so much when he had just tried to wake up. Blood had spilled all over her clothes, red guts landing on the street and staining them the same colour.

Prussia, still very young then, had jumped to his feet, cracking the twig in two pieces and turning to the tree, stabbing it in a similar motion to the man just a few minutes ago, although it didn’t have much effect on the tree.

After a few minutes of that, he spun on his bare foot to see if he could find the soldier, chase after him.

He hadn’t, by then the man had already been gone.

But Prussia had always been persistent, chasing throughout the little villages for people dressed in similar outfits, looking for that big black cross he’d seen on the man’s chest, feet scattering over shatters and fragments of glass as he ran through the dirt between tightly packed village shacks.

Villagers had given him odd looks, some pointing to his face and whispering fearfully. He hadn’t known why, so he’d just smiled anyways, figuring it didn’t matter anyways.

He didn’t find any that day, but Prussia was persistent. He scrounged the streets for men in high emblems that the people cowered from, he looked everywhere. He didn’t know precisely why, but he’d known he had to find one of those men.

Eventually, he’d found one.

It had occurred to him, a few weeks later, that there was a pain in his stomach from a lack of something. At first he thought it was just something being alive entailed. It took him a while to realise that pain was hunger, and he could solve it by eating food.

After reaching this realisation, he’d decided to simply reach into one of the baskets of picked fruit, and taken a bite out of an apple without another thought.

But before he could finish his apple, he’d heard yelling.

 _“Kawīds_   _stwi jūs-“_ He’d turned towards the woman, eyes gleaming with question, and her screaming had gone from angry to hysterical.

“ _Pagānan! Dērgan!_   _Wārmin aks dīwelan!”_ She screeched at him, and he hadn’t had a clue what she was saying, but he had the feeling it wasn’t nice, so he’d ran like hell, bare feet scratching against something rough so he tripped over, knees bruising with dirt before he pulled himself up, cloth over his knees cutting with red.

He’d liked the colour, but he hadn’t had time to appreciate it, because he’d heard the woman scream again, so and he’d pulled himself to his feet and kept running.

He was fast, and he knew he could outrun her, but he’d still turned the corner of a building to take a break and hopefully hide himself. He couldn’t fight her, couldn’t do what the man in the black cross had done to the man speaking the odd language, so all he could do was hide.

His blood boiled, and he spun on the corner to take in a breath.

Dust kicked up into his chest, and he coughed, eyes gleaming with tears, before he’d looked up-

And there another one of those men had been, sword drawn and black cross emblazed, cleaning it of blood as he stepped over the body of a dead man.

Prussia had gripped the fabric of his clothes, coughing the last of the dirt out of his lungs and shooting up, racing towards the man, coming to a halt only at the point of his sword.

The man looked at him the same way he looked at the corpses of the people on the ground. Prussia didn’t like that, so he fixed him with a glare, eyes hidden behind his near white hair.

 _“Wer bist du?”_ The man asked, light reflecting off the sword and into his eyes. The language he spoke was different the other ones, and Prussia still couldn’t understand a word of it, but it seemed somehow… easier. More familiar.

So he, just tilted his head, widened his eyes and repeated the words back to the man, whose gaze steeled at his repetition.

“ _Ich bin… komme ûf…”_ The man had trailed off as Prussia looked up to him, eyes wide and clear despite the shadows.

“ _Was bist du! ein Dämon? Welche Art von Hölle bringst du mit!?_ ” The man said, one palm running to the little metal cross on his next, the other pointing the gleaming metal sword directly at him.

Prussia wished he had that sword, he thought as the man slowly looked at him with fear in his eyes, and then straightened himself out, muttering to himself. “ _Ich bin ein Soldat der teutonischen Ordnung..._   _Helfen, Wehren, Heilen.”_

And then, taking a step forwards, he brings the sword to Prussia neck. “ _Begonie, Dämon“_ He said, and sliced upwards, blood slicing in front of Prussia’s eyes, and-

Halfway through the flesh near the bone of his chin, Prussia caught the blade in his hand, pulling it down with all the might he could muster.

His gaze fell to the dirt, blood dropping onto the brown, painting it red, choking back the cry that stuck in his throat. His fingers went to his chin, and he winced as he felt them touch hard, solid bone.

But he gritted his teeth. He’d been chasing these men for what he could remember of his life- he would not let his chance escape him, no matter the blood leaking out of his hand which still grasped the sword.

Jerking the blade down, he swept it to the side and listening to the clanking of it against the wall.

Tilting his head, he tried to figure out the words of the soldier. “ _Ein…_ _Dämon?“_ He asked, trying to wrap his tongue around the syllables which he’d heard with only slight frequency.

The solider nodded, keeping his eyes on Prussia as he leaned his weigh to one leg, reaching out and cradling his mussed up sword in his hands, before sheathing it, eyes still wide as he stared, very slowly at Prussia.

 _“_ _Du bist wirklich ein Dämon.”_ The man said lowly, syllables barely leaving his mouth out of fear. Prussia raised the cloth covering his collarbone to try and stop the blood from flowing out of his chin and hand, before noticing the look in the man’s eyes.

In that brief second, he saw the awed fear replaced with something else. Almost… knowing. As if the man could see his weaknesses.

So he stopped immediately, dropping the cloth and biting his lip, unintentionally drawing more blood.

Gripping the edge of the branch he still held from weeks ago, he tried out the syllables again, trying to piece together some form of dialogue to say something.

He needed to follow this man, of at least some man similar to him. There was something waiting for him with the, something important.

So he steeled himself, walking up to the man. “ _Ich bin…”_ He tried to think of a word the man had used, one that might let him follow him. Cleared his throat, a bit.  _“Ich bin ein Dämon.”_ He fixed the man with a hard gaze, staring up at him with hard eyes.

And then, slowly, he stepped forwards. The man didn’t step back- he was too proud, and for that Prussia gave him credit.

He tugged on the man’s sleeve, and then raised a hand to the black emblem on his chest, tracing over it with wondering eyes. The man stared at him incredulously.

He pointed to the cross, and then off to the fortress in the distance, one that he’d seen the villagers point at in fear over the last time. But he didn’t point to it with fear, he pointed to it with purpose.

And the man seemed to understand, gulping shallowly and silently continuing. Prussia followed him, loosening his grip on the man’s tunic, keeping up with his pace even though the man was faster than him.

After a period of time, filled with the man staring ahead with stern, rigid posture, and Prussia trying to pry his sword out from its sheath, the man turning it out of reach, hand resting on its hilt and keeping him from grasping the shiny blade once again.

The cuts on his hands still bleed, but he ignored the sparks of pain in the corners of his vision and the aching that runs up his pale forearms, and keeps his chin up, even though the blood stains his tunic.

Eventually, the man leads him to the fortress, eyes still steely. Prussia thinks he looked cooler when he was fighting.

The man tries to push him away as they enter the fortress, but Prussia follows him anyways, just striding ahead of him, not paying any regard to the guards who shout at him when he passes through the threshold.

“ _Junge! Was bist du_ -“ He heard one of the shout from the periphery of his vision, and before he’d known what was going on, another sword point hit him, to the pin of his collarbone.

He turned, using the back of his still bleeding hand to catch yet another blade in his hand, pushing down the pain to level the man with a glare, waiting for the other man he’d come with the catch up with him.

 _“Was ist das?”_ The man who’d just hit him with a sword asked, turning to the other man.

“ _einige Art von Dämon.”_ The man behind him replied, voice bordering on breaking that cool calm of before, voice tingeing with fear.

Prussia decided he didn’t mind that, and left the two men behind him to stare in stupor.

He went off, in search of something he could feel pulling him, that’d been pulling him since he woke up near that tree and seen that man die.

That didn’t mean the men had left him behind, though. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the one he’d followed here still behind him, running frantically somewhere. Noticing he was heading in the same direction Prussia was planning to go in anyways, Prussia followed him.

Running through corridors and stone walled cellars, he was eventually led to a man in grand white robes, standing near a fountain.

The man who’d led Prussia here then began talking to the man, frantically, with rushed motions.

 _“_ _Priester! Ich war heute im Dorf, und ich begegnete einem Kind!”_ He said, eyes wild, hands gesturing frantically.

The man in robes did not seem too concerned. “ _Und ... was ist mit diesem Kind?”_  He replied, although not without concern.

“ _das Kind!_   _er… er_ -  _Seine Ûgen waren rot! wi der Teufel, der Atem des Teufels! der Teufel!”_ The man responded with hysteria, cool collectivity breaking into a thousand sharp pieces.

“ _und er- er_   _Ich habe versucht, ihm die Kehle durchzuschneiden_ _mit meinem Schwert aber- er- er_ _warf es einfach zur Seite als wäre es nichts! Als wäre es nitchs! Und- heilig-! da ist er!”_ The man spotted him, whipping his gaze towards Prussia, who stood in the corner of the room. Feeling he should do something, he smiled.

The man in robes looked upon him with a looks dissimilar from the man in armour, almost curious.

 _“ist das wahr?”_ The man in robes said, looking at Prussia quizzically, meeting his eyes.

The man in armour left the room, saying something too muddled for Prussia to discern, although it was at a decently loud volume.

That left only him and the man in robes in the room, along with the big yellow cross behind the other man.

Not knowing what came over him, Prussia took one, then two, then three steps forwards, until he was staring directly at the glowing yellow cross. And slowly, without warning, he lifting his right hand to touch his forehead, then the apex of his chest, then left shoulder, and finally, his right.

He stared up at the cross and felt some sort of feeling wash over him, felt something in his chest lighten.

A hand fell on his shoulder, jolting him out of his stupor.

It was the man in robes, eyes looking onto his. Unlike the soldier’s, his shone with an odd sort of curiosity, a connection Prussia couldn’t put his finger on.

 _“Du bist kein Dämon.”_ He said, hand clasping Prussia’s and dipping in into the pool of water in front of the cross, motioning at him to repeat what he’d done only seconds earlier.

Prussia did, feeling some other sort of feeling wash over him.

And there, in that one half-second blink, he saw it, he saw  _everything-_

_A reformation, a new religion-_

_A boy with spectacles and a drawn sword-_

_A girl who fought him, tooth and bare bone-_

_A duchy, underling of some weak and sickly empire that he swore he’d beat one day-_

_A king who made him great, with a flute and a drawn sword-_

_Another man, later, with diplomacy to match and wits of war-_

_A unification, a blond haired kid who he thought he knew-_

_Blood. So much blood, red everywhere-_

_Closing his eyes, for once and for-_

He opened his eyes, and looked up, to the cross, to the man beside him. And the man held out a cross, strung on a piece of twine, two pieces of metal nailed together like the man on it was.

He takes it from the man in robes.

Priest.  The man beside him is a priest. That’s what he’s called, a voice somewhere in the back of his mind tells him, silent and subdued but there nonetheless.

He tried to find the words, stringing together syllables he’d heard the soldiers speak.

After a pause, he thought he found it.

 _“_ _Ich bin nein kein Dämon.”_ He says, and it’s almost, so close to being right, but it’s not.

The man looks onto him curiously.

He tries again, this time grinning a bit as he did.

“ _Ich bin_ _Preußen.”_ He says, lips curving into a smile around the word ‘ _Preußen_  ’.

And that sounds just right.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes
> 
> Kasse pagan!: ‘Why’ in Old Prussian, a Baltic dialect spoken by the Prussian people before the Teutonic Crusades. 
> 
> Kawīds stwi jūs: (Old Prussian) What are you-?. 
> 
> Pagānan! Dērgan! Wārmin aks dīwelan: (Old Prussian) Heathen! Abomination! Red eyed demon! 
> 
> Ich bin… komme ûf…: (Middle High German) I am… I come from… 
> 
> Was bist du! ein Dämon? Welche Art von Hölle bringst du mit!?: What are you? A demon? What kind of hell do you bring with you!? 
> 
> Ich bin ein Soldat der teutonischen Ordnung... Helfen, Wehren, Heilen: I am a soldier of the Teutonic order… Help, defend, heal (motto of the Order) 
> 
> Begonie, Dämon: Begone, demon. 
> 
> Du bist wirklich ein Dämon: You really are a demon.
> 
> Junge! Was bist du: Boy! What are you-
> 
> Was ist das?: What is this?
> 
> einige Art von Dämon:Some kind of demon
> 
> Priester! Ich war heute im Dorf, und ich begegnete einem Kind!: Priest! I was in the village today, and I met a child!  
> Und ... was ist mit diesem Kind?-And…What about this kid? 
> 
> das Kind! er… er- Seine Ûgen waren rot! wi der Teufel, der Atem des Teufels! der Teufel!: This kid! He… he- his eyes were red! Like the hell-breath of the devil! The devil! 
> 
> “und er- er Ich habe versucht, ihm die Kehle durchzuschneiden mit meinem Schwert aber- er- er warf es einfach zur Seite als wäre es nichts! Als wäre es nitchs! Und- heilig-! da ist er!: And he- he- I tried to cut his throat with my sword but- he- he just threw it aside as if it were nothing! As if it were nothing! And- holy-! There he is!
> 
> Ist das wahr?- Is that true?
> 
> Du bist kein Dämon: You are not a demon.
> 
> Ich bin nein kein Dämon: I am no demon.
> 
> Ich bin Preußen: I am Prussia.
> 
> -Of the Order of the Teutonic knights, the main languages were Latin and Middle High German (1050-1350), although many of the pilgrims and crusaders could speak neither.
> 
> -The Teutonic Knights launched a crusade into the lands of what we now call Lithuania in the year 1230, arriving at Kwidzyn, Pomesania (modern day Poland) in the year 1233 and putting up the Kwidzyn Castle.


End file.
